Fatal Intent (Desert Heat Book 3) (19 page)

In the morning, Alex let Dylan sleep as long as he could, while she got the boys up and told them to get ready to go to daycare. She started the coffeepot before going back to wake Dylan just in time to get his shower, dress and have a bite to eat before leaving. She was telling the boys to go and brush their teeth when Dylan staggered into the kitchen.

“Oh, honey! I’m so sorry you were worried. You didn’t get enough sleep.” Alex set the cup of coffee down at his place at the table and went to him, fitting her body to his in a hug. His arms came around her and squeezed.

“Tell me you weren’t chasing those Patriots,” he said.

“I wasn’t. I told you I wouldn’t. I just had to go and give the Redbirds my condolences. I felt Dawn’s death was my fault. I’m so sorry I didn’t think and leave you more information before I left.”

Dylan sat down. “I’m sorry I yelled at you when you called.”

Alex waited for the ‘
but
,’ however it never came. She thought back, trying to remember if her epiphany of last night had always been Dylan’s practice. Did he ever give her an excuse in the same sentence as an apology? She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. He didn’t this time, and she wouldn’t either.

“Can you take today off? You need more sleep, and I’d like to tell you about my visit with Dawn’s parents and extended family. Then we need to talk about why it sometimes won’t be possible for me to leave detailed information about where I’m going or when I’ll be back.” Seeing his frown, she added. “I could have yesterday, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Dylan nodded slowly. “All right. Let’s talk about that, and it will be a good time to talk about computer security too. I’ll see if they can spare me some time today.”

“Shall I take the boys to daycare, or keep them home today?”

“We’ll get more done if they aren’t here,” he said. “Is that an awful thing to say?”

“I don’t think so. Besides, they love daycare. They’re meeting kids they’ll be in class with in a couple of weeks and making new friends. I’ll go ahead and drive them there while you call in. Be back in twenty minutes.”

Alex drove back from the school deep in thought. When she’d chosen her life’s path, she had no idea that Dylan would come back into her life. She hadn’t thought about a husband, or children, and how disruptive her work might be.

In a sudden moment of clarity, she realized it had been about her mother all along. Her need to know what happened. And now she did. She owed Dawn her tribute story, but was investigative journalism what she wanted to do anymore?  If not that, what would she do? She’d chosen her career so long ago that it didn’t seem possible to switch gears any more.

THIRTY-ONE

While Alex was gone, Dylan called his supervisor. He didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot, and he didn’t want to give his new department reason to believe he was irresponsible, the way they had at his last posting. If he took off a day to get his domestic arrangements in order in the very first week of employment, would that brand him as someone who couldn’t manage his affairs?

He decided to lay his cards on the table and ask the supervisor if it would be an appropriate thing to do. If he got any flak, he’d suck it up and go in. He and Alex would have to wait a couple of days to settle this. A few moments later, he was talking to the man who would be writing his performance reviews every three months for the foreseeable future.

“So I was wondering if I could have another day to get settled,” he concluded. “If that’s not appropriate to ask for, then I’ll be in as soon as I can get there.”

“I can see what you’ve been up against. I think we can spare you today. Go ahead. Take today and tomorrow, in fact, if you’ve got the leave time available. It’s better to get fully settled before you start, and I guess you didn’t have enough time in between.”

Dylan hesitated. He shouldn’t carry tales. It was bad politics. “No, sir, I didn’t. They couldn’t spare me because ORPI is always short-handed. I didn’t feel I could take leave. I should have told you I needed an extra week.”

His supervisor laughed. “And then you’d have worked that week, too, and you still wouldn’t be settled.”

But Alex would have been here and I wouldn’t have had to do it by myself.
Aloud, he said, “You’re probably right. Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t even worry about it. We’re more laid back around here than the Park Service is,” said the supervisor. Then he gave a chuckle. “But don’t think we won’t work you when you get back on Monday.”

“I wouldn’t think that sir. Thanks again.”

Dylan went to change out of the clothes he would have worn to work. Two days off—four with the coming weekend—to work out some things with Alex. A luxury. It seemed they were always in the middle of some crisis and that had almost derailed their relationship. He’d see if he could meet her halfway.

First things first, computer security. He opened his laptop and started researching how to cloak the IP address so no one could follow it back to their physical location. He was doing that when Alex got back.

“I thought you’d be back in bed,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m researching computer security. Is your blog hosted by a free service, or do you have your own hosting?”

“My own, why? Wait, Dylan, haven’t you ever read my blog? You can tell by its URL that it’s mine. NamingtheNameless.com.” Was it really possible he’d never even looked at it?

Dylan saw the telltale flush of heat rising to her cheeks. How could he not have understood this was important to her? “I have read it, but I just never noticed. I’m sorry, babe.”

“I need you to take it seriously, Dylan. That hurt my feelings,” her mild statement was a far cry from what he expected.

“I’ll give it a closer look when we’re through here, babe. I promise. I asked because I want to know if you selected the option to keep your information private.”

“What information?”

“You know, what you have to give them to set up your domain. Name, address, phone number. Anyone can find that out unless you pay for a private listing.”

Dylan glanced at Alex to find her face twisted in consternation. “No, I didn’t. Do you mean to tell me that the Patriots could look up who owns this and find out where I live? They could come here? Hurt me? Hurt the boys?” she wailed.

“Wait, settle down. Have you changed the information since you came here?”

“No, but that’s no better. They could find Dad. What can I do, Dylan?”

“Just order it now, babe, it will be okay. If you want, we can warn your dad.” He went on to tell her about other things she could do, like implementing a firewall and posting from internet cafes so the IP address wouldn’t be theirs. When they were finished, she hugged him. “How do you know about all this? I didn’t know you were a computer expert?”

“I’m not,” he grinned. “I’m a Google expert.” 

“Let’s break for lunch, and I’ll tell you about my evening,” she said.

Dylan did want to know about the infamous evening. He’d called Watson and her dad as soon as he’d heard from her, learning that her dad hadn’t been concerned because he hadn’t heard about Dawn Redbird’s death. Watson was relieved, but almost as agitated as Dylan was. Now it seemed to have been an unnecessary flap, but getting the details would be a good lead-in to the talk they needed to have.

“Sounds like a good plan. I’m hungry. And then maybe I can take a nap before the boys get home.”

“I’ll make us some sandwiches. I want you to read the two stories I wrote about Dawn. I got permission from the paper to quote the articles I wrote for them. I’ve got one more to write, and it will be a tribute to her. That’s what last night was all about.”

Alex was invested in this, Dylan could see. He stood and stretched, an exaggerated move meant to end in putting his arms around her and pulling her in. Then he was going to say he’d read it. But Alex evaded the hug.

“Huh-uh, mister. You won’t get out of this by trying to distract me. Sit down. Read.”

“I wasn’t… oh, what’s the use. Okay.” He grinned at her. “I was going to, you know.”

Dylan took the time to find the first story to read first. When he was done, he sat back in the chair as Alex brought him his sandwich. “Damn, babe, you’re a good writer.”

Alex rolled her eyes at him. “Duh! You knew I won that prize! I don’t know whether to kiss you or smack you upside the head.”

“Do I get to choose?”

“Eat your sandwich. Jeez.”

She looked so cute, pretending to be mad, that he couldn’t help snaking a hand around her neck and pulling her over for a kiss. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Watch out, I’m about to become the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”

Uh-oh. She was serious. He studiously returned his attention to the blog, locating the article about Dawn’s loss of her leg and the work she was doing to gain the use of a prosthesis.

She must have been something.

A lump came to his throat as he thought about all the pain and frustration she’d endured, only to end up dead after all.

“How did she die?”

Alex jerked. She must have been in a brown study, because he saw her deliberately focus her eyes as he spoke to her. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to get the details from Lt. Watson, not that I’m going to print them. Just for background. Dylan, she was an amazing person, and I only knew a fraction of it. That’s why I lost track of time last night.”

Alex’s eyes shined with excitement as she told him story after story her friends and relatives had shared with her. How even as a child she’d been part of the activist group her parents had started, how she’d taken it on herself to organize a chapter on campus that became the voice of the group as it grew.

“I only put half of what she went through in the rehab story. She knew she’d lose the leg if she survived. That whole three days while she waited to be found, she knew what she was going to go through. And yet, she always had the best attitude about it.”

“Did Watson ever find out why the Patriots stopped harassing Latinos and started in on the Pima?” he asked.

“No, but I did. Mr. and Mrs. Redbird started that group, and one of the things they did after the Patriots were implicated in the deaths of some illegals was call them out for criminal activity. The illegals were Tohono O’odham.”

Dylan’s face changed, became harder. “Like my mom.”

“I don’t know that they were like your mom. She lived here as a citizen. Most of the people the Patriots have murdered were transients. It isn’t an excuse, but you can kind of see their point. They didn’t want illegals coming across with drugs, and they figured a few murders would be a deterrent. But then they got careless about who they targeted, and some of them were people born in the US. Their rhetoric got as ugly as their actions, and before long they were calling anyone with brown skin a wetback, even if the person’s family had been here since before this was even US territory.”

“Why do you care so much about this, Alex?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” she countered.

“Because it isn’t your fight. Because it could be dangerous, and because I want you to be safe.”

“And I want to be safe. For you and the boys, I’ll do everything in my power now to stay safe. But I can’t help who I am. I grew up hearing my dad rail against the company whose safety regulations were so laughable they were worse than nothing at all. His dad died when he was a young kid, and he always quoted Edmund Burke at me when he told me about Grandpa’s death and how the company didn’t even care,” she said. She was becoming more passionate about her subject, and consequently more beautiful than ever.

“Edmund Burke?”

“You know. You’ve heard this too, I’ll bet. He said ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ I can’t just do nothing. It would be a betrayal of my upbringing.”

“I can see that,” he murmured. “I understand. But I’ll never stop worrying that I’ll lose you.”

~~~

Dawn’s memorial service was held on Sunday at the church where she and her parents attended services that honored their traditional beliefs as well as a Christian doctrine that embraced the similarities. Alex had loved the concepts of balance and harmony with nature and with one’s fellow man since Wanda explained him’dag to her.

While she’d been raised outside a church and Dylan had been raised more-or-less Catholic, they could agree on this spiritual platform. Dylan and the boys attended the services with her, and the Redbirds expressed surprise that she’d never told them her boyfriend was Native.

Alex shrugged. It hadn’t occurred to her. Dylan was Dylan, and that he was Native wasn’t the most important thing about him. That he loved her was the most important, followed closely by his sense of duty to his family, his work ethic, his honesty. By the time she couldn’t think of any more good qualities, she knew why she loved him. 

Only, she’d loved him before she knew him well enough to understand all those good qualities. With a smirk that caused him to question her with his eyes, Alex concluded that his physical beauty and the fact he could turn her insides to jelly with one kiss probably had something to do with it, too.

Lt. Watson was there as well, and they talked afterward. An appellate court had set the date for a hearing on whether Harvey Lloyd would get a new trial for two months away. Her mom’s remains couldn’t be released until after the new trial, if Lloyd was granted one.

“So we just wait, to put her and this nightmare to rest,” Alex said. She wasn’t as bitter as she sounded. Some peace and quiet seemed like a good idea right now. Hitting the books and doing well in her final year of school. Settling into her new family situation and learning to balance the needs of the boys and Dylan with her own. Learning to live with Dylan and all that meant. Especially all that meant.

Lt. Watson had answered her, but she hadn’t paid attention to his words. It was Dylan who responded.

“What’s your assessment of any violence directed at Alex? Is she safe with me in Tempe?” Alex looked up at Dylan, her eyes coming to rest on his tense expression.

Watson answered. “Very little, actually. We’ve rounded up most of them and from interviews, the violent ones are just two or three that are still in touch with Lloyd. The rest are passive participants. At most, they serve as lookouts.” Watson glanced at Alex, who blushed.

“You know I would have come straight to you with the information if I’d had a chance,” she said. “They didn’t give me one. I didn’t know what was happening until it had already happened.”

“I know, Alex,” said Watson. “And the majority of the group is like that. I found out they have a lot of turnover. Most people don’t want to be involved in criminal activity. They just want to get together and bitch about the way things are. They quit as soon as something like this goes down, and the Patriots have to have another round of recruitment. I just wish more of them would come to us, like you did.”

“Scared they’ll go to jail, probably,” Dylan remarked.

“Probably. Anyway, as long as Alex stays away from Pinal County and no one knows where she is, she should be fine in a bigger community.”

“We’ve taken steps to insure she can’t be found with online information,” Dylan said.

“That should be good enough.”

Relief swept through Alex. Her presence wouldn’t bring harm to Dylan, or the boys. She could relax, at least to some extent.